


In Plain Sight

by Andeincascade (Ande)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-01
Updated: 2008-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 01:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ande/pseuds/Andeincascade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen Perkins sets her tea down on the side table and settles comfortably into the gaily cushioned chaise, a shawl wrapped around her thin shoulders against the chill of the evening.  It’s her favorite time of day and the balcony her favorite vantage point.  On the horizon the sun has started to slip below the edge of the ocean, streaking the sky purple and orange.  She sips the herbal brew and reflects that Cascade, finally, has started to feel like home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Plain Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for TS Ficathon 2008
> 
> Brainstorming help from Maaaaa.
> 
> Cheerleading from Kungfunurse, Catyah, Sassyinkpen, Sara_merry99 and Aingeal8c.
> 
> Beta by Alyjude and Kungfunurse. 
> 
> Dedicated to all of you with thanks and so much love.

Helen Perkins sets her tea down on the side table and settles comfortably into the gaily cushioned chaise, a shawl wrapped around her thin shoulders against the chill of the evening. It’s her favorite time of day and the balcony her favorite vantage point. On the horizon the sun has started to slip below the edge of the ocean, streaking the sky purple and orange. She sips the herbal brew and reflects that Cascade, finally, has started to feel like home.

It hadn’t been easy to leave the cozy San Diego bungalow she’d shared with John for nearly forty years. It was only supposed to be their starter home; they would upgrade as the family grew. But Stephanie had been a long time in coming and there were no other babies after her and by the time that they might have thought about moving it was clear that leaving was unthinkable. Stephanie was thriving, close friends making up for the lack of siblings, and Helen loved the neighborhood and her sunny patio with its flowering shrubs and lemon trees. Her life was sweet and uncomplicated and she would have been content to remain there all her days. Only three years of lonely widowhood and the promise of a long-desired first grandchild – _a grandson,_ she smiles, _to bear John’s name_ \- could have enticed her to move and only Stephanie’s and Pete’s honest desire to have her close could have convinced her. So she packed up her memories and bid tearful goodbyes to all she knew to make her way thirteen hundred miles up the Pacific coast.

Voices rise from below her and she sees them, as she does nearly every evening when the weather is fine, Jim and Blair setting off for walk along the shore. Already Jim’s relaxed, loping stride has become dearly familiar, as has his fond amusement at his partner’s antics next to him. Blair is anything but relaxed, first bouncing along next to Jim, then jumping ahead, walking backwards with hands flying in complicated patterns, punctuating the words spilling from his mouth. Between the ambient noise of the ocean and the muffled street sounds from the far side of the building, Helen can’t make out their conversation, but she loves watching them. They’re so happy, so intent on each other, and in a few minutes she is rewarded for her attentiveness. Jim throws back his head and laughs, then ruffles Blair’s curls as he falls back into step with him. Blair is laughing too and retaliates with an elbow jab to Jim’s side. _Oh, boys!_

She’d been hesitant, at first, about living next door to two bachelors but the loft had proved too ideal to resist. After several days of frustrated house hunting, Stephanie had brought her here and Helen had felt the word _home_ chime deep in her heart from the minute she’d opened the door. She’d fallen in love with the gleaming hardwood, the yellow light streaming through the skylight, the airy loft bedroom and the ocean views from the windows. There was no question of living anywhere else and she’d signed the lease in grateful relief.

The next day she’d wondered if she’d been too hasty. She and Stephanie had returned with the first of her boxes - the fragile treasures too precious to trust to movers - and old Harv Miller in 304 had stopped her in the hall. After peering curiously into her open apartment door and even more curiously at Stephanie’s swollen belly, he’d introduced himself and settled in to dish the dirt on all the third floor residents. No one, it seemed, escaped the sharpness of his tongue but the occupants of 307 excited his particular distain. 

“Those two fellows, you know,” he’d said, with a dark, meaningful look but he’d not elaborated and Helen was not a gossip. She’d steeled herself for loud music, louder parties and a steady stream of cheap women passing her door. She hoped it wouldn’t be too disturbing too often.

She needn’t have worried.

Those two fellows, Jim and Blair, had turned out to be cops - detectives, actually - and two more delightful neighbors Helen could not imagine. The music emanating from 307 was eclectic, it was true, but the volume was not intrusive, and Helen could easily imagine Blair bopping to those tribal rhythms or Jim relaxing to the mellower sounds she heard. They held parties, yes, bimonthly poker games which, while lively, were not the wild affairs she'd feared, and were attended by their cop buddies, including Simon Banks, their weary-faced captain, and that Aussie detective – _Inspector,_ she corrected herself – Megan Connor. In fact, Megan turned out to be the only woman Helen had observed visiting 307 with any regularity, but Helen did not wonder at that for long. It was quickly apparent that Jim and Blair only had eyes for each other. That might bother Harv Miller, must be the cause of that inexplicable malice, but it bothered Helen not a bit. She’d lived too long with her soul mate not to recognize that connection in others and she rejoiced see it in these two men so obviously in love. No, there was nothing to disturb her about Jim and Blair. As it turned out, she’d been embarrassed to discover that _she’d_ been disturbing _them._

She’d barely gotten settled in the loft and had started to familiarize herself with her new neighborhood when she’d succumbed to a nasty summer cold. She hadn’t been really surprised. The move had left her a bit run down and the transition from sunny, warm San Diego to cool, rainy Cascade was quite a change; she was old enough to need time to adjust to a new climate. She’d resigned herself to toughing it out. 

Blair had other ideas. 

Blair had already proven to have an uncanny knack for being on hand when groceries needed carrying or when she was trying to wrestle her bicycle into the elevator. After two miserable nights she’d found him at her door, two small boxes in hand.

“Helen,” he’d said reprovingly, wagging a finger. “You’re going to cough up a lung if you don’t take care of yourself. Jim’s very concerned. Fortunately, Dr. Blair is here to the rescue!” 

He’d breezed into her apartment, leading her over to her sofa, then busying himself in the kitchen. After filling her tea kettle with fresh water and inquiring where she kept her pots and pans, he’d filled a saucepan too and fired up the burners under each of them. As the water heated he’d brought over the boxes and joined her on the sofa.

“Now this tea,” he’d explained, handing her the larger of the two, “saved my ass, uh, _butt_ my freshman year at Rainier. I got the flu during finals, was so sick I couldn’t concentrate. This got me through. It’s got loads of natural vitamin C and a natural decongestant to help dry up that nose.” He handed her the second box. “These herbs also have decongestant properties but what they really help with is the coughing. Put a tablespoon in simmering water and then breathe the steam. Ten minutes is good, twenty is better. I promise, you’ll rest more easily.” 

He’d leaned back then, grinning widely and stretching his arms along the sofa back, and looked around unabashedly. 

“I know this is a mirror image of our place but your things make it look very different. I like it.”

His friendliness, his honest desire to be helpful, had touched her and she’d thanked him profusely but, really, she’d been embarrassed to have bothered her new neighbors. She’d never considered herself a loud person and none of her old neighbors had ever complained, despite their close proximity. As she listened to Blair prattle on, she privately vowed to be quieter. She’d just have to be more mindful about everything now that she was in an apartment.

Of course, all of this happened before she’d heard the rumors. Not that she’d believed them.

The air has chilled and the dampness has started to roll in from the shore. Still she’s not ready to go in; it’s not time yet. She pulls the shawl closer and considers, not for the first time, what John would have made of her new neighbors. She has no doubt he would have found a kindred spirit in Jim Ellison. They shared an independent streak and a fierce determination to make their own way in the world. 

They’d made plans, she and John, they’d made dozens of plans for when John was discharged from the Navy. He would come home and enter his father’s accounting firm and in a year they would marry. They’d talked of nothing else. She was not prepared for the bombshell. He’d sat her down his very first night home, his face grave.

“Helen … I can’t,” he stammered and, for a second, her heart stopped. He couldn’t, he just _couldn’t_ be breaking up with her. He’d looked up then and Helen could see the pain in his eyes. “I can’t sit behind a desk my whole life.” 

_Oh, thank God,_ she remembers thinking, _is that all?_ “What are you saying, John?”

“Fred Harrison down at the marina – you know, Bill’s dad – is selling his boat and he’s made me an offer, a good offer. I’ll do fishing charters, cruises, whatever people want, really. It’s hard work and it’s not very secure but -”

She’d stopped him then, her fingers covering his lips. “Then do it, John. It sounds like a good life.”

It was. John’s father had been furious and predicted failure but fishing was popular and John was a good sailor. She’d accompanied him often after they were married, in the years before Stephanie came. She loved feeling the swell of the ocean as the boat cut through the waves; she loved the long unbroken horizon before her. Most of all, she loved the sturdy man by her side. John was enough of his father’s son to be an excellent businessman. He’d expanded his business into whale watching excursions when it was all the rage in the 60’s, especially after he’d noticed Helen’s uncanny knack for knowing just where and when those magnificent mammals were going to break the surface of the water. John’s charters soon had the best reputation for sightings of anyone’s in San Diego.

Yes, Jim’s independence would have endeared him to John. But it would be John’s stories that would have endeared him to Blair.

Like so many men of the sea, John had had a knack for spinning a yarn, and three-hour charters provided lots of time for the telling and a captive audience. He’d loved hearing them as just much; so many evenings, after a day’s cruising, spent sipping a well-earned beer with the other men at the marina, trading tales. What she wouldn’t give to see John and Blair together, sharing stories, both bursting with enthusiasm, talking with lips and eyes and hands, each trying to top the other. She realizes, with a pang, that her grandson will never know this. _I wish I’d saved them. I should have written them down. Stephanie would have loved -_

At last. This is what she’s been waiting for, the best part of the evening, her privilege to witness. In the distance, Jim and Blair have rounded the point and are heading home. Their pace has altered. Blair’s no longer bouncing and Jim’s steps have slowed. In the twilight they are free to walk close, arms tight around each other. They end each walk the same way. Still some distance from the building, they come together under the protection of benevolent darkness, kissing and kissing in obvious need. 

That first time Helen couldn’t help a tiny gasp. Not in shock or disgust. No, this was good and right, and in that moment she’d felt John beside her and John’s benediction on her new life. She’d been glad for the cover of darkness as she sat there trembling, her cheeks flushed, her heart pounding. But, _oh God, Jim_ \- Jim had heard. He shouldn’t have been able to. She’d sat frozen in shock, while Jim had looked around wildly, head cocked and nostrils flaring, and she’d known. She’d known in that instant that the whispers were true. Jim was this – what did they call it – this Sentinel and Blair had lied, _lied,_ but not about Jim. In the next second Jim seemed to have stared straight at her balcony, his eyes locking with hers. _I’m just imagining it,_ she’d thought, trying desperately to quiet her heartbeat. _He can’t know. I’ve never told._ Then, with a tiny, knowing smile, he’d gone back to kissing Blair.

They still kiss under the stars, turning to each other in silent claiming, and Helen is carefully still as she watches them. She’s grateful for her hyperactive sight but she’s glad it’s only sight; she can’t imagine the burden of having all five senses enhanced. She’s pieced together a little about what this means for them through careful observation and those excerpts of Blair’s leaked dissertation still on file at the library. Their love, their commitment to each other and the people of Cascade, their mission to protect, she sees it every day. She’ll keep their secret. She – 

Her phone is ringing. This late, it can only mean -

“Mom,” Stephanie cries, not giving her time to even say hello, “It’s time! The baby’s coming!”

It takes her only a moment to gather her purse and keys, slip into a jacket, and hurry down the stairs. At the front door she meets Jim and Blair coming in.

“Helen, you look -,” Blair begins.

“It’s late, Helen, are you okay?” Jim asks.

“It’s Stephanie,” she blurts, “She’s in labor!”

“We’ll drive you to the hospital,” Jim insists and tucks his strong, steady hand under her elbow. “Shake a leg, Chief.” Jim helps her into the truck and slides in beside her. Blair wiggles in on the other side and settles the flashing light on the roof. 

_I’m in good hands, John,_ she thinks as they speed through the night. _Let’s go meet your namesake._

 

End


End file.
